


our home in december.

by enesnl



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, dont expect much, jus me procrastinating, plotless vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enesnl/pseuds/enesnl
Summary: in a post-apocalyptic world, sana and nayeon only have each other.
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Minatozaki Sana
Comments: 6
Kudos: 100





	1. december

**Author's Note:**

> for jenine! i have to apologize for how very not good this is kjdhfd but happy birthday because you deserve Something >:(

If Sana had known - before all of this - that she'd end up solo-ing with Nayeon years after the fact, she's not sure if she would've said yes. Not when her heart was still cradled in the warm palms of Dahyun: the girl she loved and wanted to protect more than anything.

But Nayeon had been equipped with the lantern, and Momo held their only flashlight, and Dahyun had always been too polite to argue.

Then the collapse happened, and their cries were swallowed by the falling tiles, and then - the dust settled. And Sana was left with Nayeon, cowering into each other for warmth, faces uncomfortably close.

  
  


The snow crunches under their hard-worn feet, shoes making ornaments of the dirt. Rusted bells hang off door frames of long-abandoned houses, their clappers turned to icicles, frozen in another time.

Nayeon stomps lightly on the wooden planks grounding the floor of a cozy-looking one, checking its solidity before entering. Sana wipes at the bell, feeling the cold seep into her old gloves. Then she rings it, once, twice. The sound is tinkling. It makes her feel better. And even though Nayeon _shhs_ her to come inside, Sana can see her lips curve into something she hasn't seen in a long while, too.

Sana follows her inside, and breathes. Formless clouds escape from the space between her lips. 

"Sana?" Nayeon's voice is croaky from disuse. The floorboards squeak as Sana turns to look at Nayeon. "I think the logs are dry enough," Nayeon says, pointing toward the fireplace.

Sana nods. Tries a smile that reaches her eyes. "That's good."

Then Nayeon gets to work on the old kerosene lantern, still steady in her hand. They'd sacrificed one of their only two canteens for refills a few years back, when the winter nights had become unbearable, and the goosebumps upon their shared skins would not deflate even under the cover of a single blanket.

(On hot summer days, they'd lap at the small rim of the canteen, with dry tongues and sour spit. The water was always grimed with a bit of brown. Sana would pretend that it was a latte instead when the sun's beatdown was heavy-handed. Nayeon entertained her sometimes; other times, she just sighed. 'Let's carry on,' she'd say.)

Sana decides to wander around the house, feet entering the main foyer. Faces she doesn't recognize adorned the walls, floral wallpaper peeling at the corners. She hears the cracklings of a burgeoning fire from the living room, and smiles. Their conversations tend to exist in that way, now - in the sounds of tinder being lit, water being sloshed around, heavy footsteps crunching through stiff terrain.

It's interesting, Sana thinks, as she hears Nayeon beckon her back. Their voices had always deafened over the rest of their friends in commands, short arguments, effects of Nayeon's helpless outrage and Sana's unwavering optimism. Even under the gray sky, at the end of the world, at the beginning of Nayeon and Sana - their bubble was always a prick away from being broken. But now it's them against the rest of the world, and their bubble has waned in size but lined with stronger fortitude, and Sana's okay with that.

"Hey," Sana says, and almost laughs at the confused look on Nayeon's face. She's just happy to see her, is all. "I love you."

Endearments are far and few between, but - Sana looks out the window, at the horizon in the distance, and how far they've come - it must be December now. And December has always been welcome.

Nayeon is silent for a moment, and then laughs. "I love you too."

Sana's teeth are the light in the gray, smile stretching to her ears. She moves to sit down on the armchair next to the fireplace, sweeping her bottom as a lady would. But the dust unfortunately has it out for her, littering the air in a storm, and Nayeon's cackle isn't helping either. Sana's cheeks redden under the glow of the fire. She's beautiful. Nayeon feels the urge to reach out and cup her cheeks, palm at the red-orange cast on her complexion, but she doesn't.

"So, what's our Christmas dinner going to be?" Sana's playing at one of her _It's a Wonderful Life_ reenactments again, wishing that her quiet hope isn't lost on Nayeon.

Nayeon doesn't miss a beat. "Well," she begins, unbuckling their rucksack, ” _m'lady_ ," wiggles her brows suggestively, "for the special occasion, I picked these up a while back."

Then Sana is left to stare in wonderment at the two cans nestled in Nayeon's palms: chicken rice soup and sweet corn puree.

Nayeon sets them gently down, their metal edges brushing the stiff bristles of the discolored rug.

"For us," Nayeon says.

She sounds so serious, and the way she's looking at Sana is so.. indescribably _potent_ , that Sana's breath catches in her throat.

"Oh," she says, finally.

Then the moonlight shines through the slit in the curtains, and Sana walks over to close them. Partly for insulation, partly because the ardent flames make Nayeon look really pretty in their light. Gorgeous, even. Like a gift.

Nayeon takes out the can opener. Makes work of depressing the lips of the cans until she hears a _pop_. She'd learned the error of not ventilating pretty quickly - when she accidentally burned herself in the explosion of a can of kimchi stew. (To this day, she still bears the scar on the underside of her left forearm. Sana'd managed to come away free of harm, and decided in that moment that her lips would serve as the bandage. Nayeon would learn later that her lips felt a lot better when they were upon Nayeon's own.)

Sana gets up from the chair, and sits down next to Nayeon on the floor, crossing her legs so their knees touch. _Because it's closer to the fire_ , she says. And Nayeon says nothing to that, only pokes at the ash underneath the flames.

Sana's heart surges with something uncontrollable that is quiet and fierce all at once.

"Nayeon," she says. Then says again, and again, and again, even as Nayeon looks at her strangely, because she just wants to hear it: the constant as it echoes across their world.

As long as Nayeon carries the fire, Sana will stay by her side.


	2. in dreams

_A candy-colored clown they call the sandman_

_Tiptoes to my room every night_

_Just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper_

_"Go to sleep. Everything is all right."_

  
  


The first time it happens - well, not the first, nor second, but the infinite last - it's at the foot of the once-famous attraction: Jade Dragon Snow Mountain.

("Oh, I know that place," Sana had pointed at the mountain range. They were still a fair distance away, but close enough for its distinct shape to manifest through the hazy clouds. "I came here when I was really young." Then she did a little, cute hop across the terrain, like a quick rewind.

"It looks like something," Nayeon said, lining a palm with her brows and squinting.

"Hm, it does," Sana agreed, tilting her head to muse but eventually coming up with nothing. They moved on soon enough, Sana stealing glances at the peculiar shape often. It was pretty, and would live with them for a while as they crossed its home turf. "Have you ever read The Little Prince?"

"No, but I've heard of it."

"Well, in the story, a little boy draws a picture of a boa constrictor digesting an elephant and- "

"Come again?" Nayeon stopped in her tracks and turned to just - stare at Sana, who seemed unfazed. Excited, even.

"A boa constrictor digesting an elephant," she repeated, and then tugged the layered sleeves of Nayeon's jackets up with abandon, missing the way Nayeon looked at her as her baby hairs rose and goosebumps bloomed. Sana drew the outline on her skin with a gloved finger, turned her into art in a wasteland.

"Cute," Nayeon said after a few moments, because the cold was starting to get to her and Sana seemed content with just tracing her path indefinitely. "So what happens next?"

What happened next was Sana replaced the sleeves, patted them a few times to iron out the kinks, and then naturally wedged her fingers between Nayeon's, before ambling back along.

"The adults thought it was just a hat and the little boy became really sad."

Simple, pragmatic. Nayeon nodded once. Where was Sana going with this? "Okay."

"So I'm thinking - maybe Jade Dragon Snow Mountain isn't actually Jade Dragon Snow Mountain," she continued to spew. "Maybe it was something else before that, and maybe it's something else now."

Nayeon smiled because Sana was so - Sana. "We should claim it."

Sana's eyes lit up, and she squeezed Nayeon's hand, and before either of them know it, their feet are being carried along the rocky floor, finding their destination like the arrow of a compass saying _this is the right way_.

"We need to stake a flag or something," Sana said.

Their trek began and ended with Sana's hand secure in Nayeon's and the great truth was just that - without explanations - the way their gloved fingers jammed into each other's spaces, because there was hardly enough room through the thick material, but they made do in the new world. Molded it and re-shaped it to fit. Lived in it.)

It's nightfall when they make camp. Nayeon's no stranger to physical intimacy with Sana. Not when her skin would turn blue and Sana's face would grow patches because unfortunately frostbite hadn't died out with everything else, and all they had were their luke-warm breaths forced into shitty heaters. Not when they don't come across a town in weeks and have to lean against each other to just keep moving because they're so emaciated and dehydrated they can't even stand on their own. And _definitely_ not when they're pressed up against each other in a naked embrace because they had to sleep inside a decaying carcass through another snow storm. Those nights were the cruelest - when the sky was black and the stars didn't exist.

But tonight is not one of those nights. Tonight, the Jade Dragon (placeholder name) has smiled upon them.

The moonlight has blanketed the area and cast shadows that highlight their delicate features, and the stars are sprinkling down on them.

It's a thing of dreams.

"It looks different up close," Nayeon says, voice lilting with a pleasant drowsiness.

Then Sana's wearing that look again, the one where her eyes bloom and her jaw wilts into an easy slack, the one that's just - _precious_.

"Like an elephant?"

Nayeon stares. One second, two. Then the air is filled with her floods of laughter and Sana's off whining and stomping somewhere until -

"Yes," Nayeon appeases. "Like an elephant."

She draws Sana closer, until they collapse onto their sleeping bag, frames melting into each other. The fatigue from the day's work hits them all at once, shoulder blades made boneless and limp.

Sana sighs. Hums, more like. Croons an old song into the column of Nayeon's neck, forgetting some lyrics and making up her own.

"So, what do you want to call this place?" Sana asks a while later, the sweetness in her voice neverending.

Nayeon thinks about it. Tries to, anyway, but her head just feels so _free_ , like she's dozing off on a cloud. The sky is a perfect blue and the air is pure and unadulterated, and everything just feels like a -

"Dream."

"Dream?" She almost expects Sana to laugh, but - this is Sana. (Nayeon is still grateful that she doesn't). "Dream Mountain? Mountain of Dreams? Seems like it exists already."

"Nothing exists," Nayeon says. Not with sorrow or resentment, just simply.

"Mmm," Sana murmurs across her chest, and Nayeon can hear the carol laying within. "We exist." She tugs off her left glove. Slides her hand in gently, firmly into Nayeon's glove. It goes in easily, and Nayeon's fingers spoon hers. "We exist, don't we?"

Then Sana is grazing Nayeon's body with the glove - the curve of her hips, the flat of her belly, the center of her breastbone - singing her lullaby. Wordless. And her lips follow and flag each place with a soft kiss, until the glove reaches Nayeon's thundering heart, because yes, they exist and they _live_ and then her fingertips are tracing the shape of Nayeon's lips, how they curve into a heart, and then at last -

Like a shooting star, Sana's lips follow.

  
  


_Make a wish._

**Author's Note:**

> cc/twt @enesnl


End file.
